[Author's Notes:

to Rebel Rikki: Blaise may or may not be staying as a boy. And as for a Blaise/Ginny thing, I think you'll just have to continue reading...

to ProwlingKitKat and ColeForever16: I want to show that despite everything Harry and the gang are still teenagers. They might be able to perform magic spells and might have different customs, but they are essentially teenagers and still do normal human things as well.

to the rest of my readers: I will update as soon as possible. Sometimes I get writer's block and I don't want to update merely for the sake of updating. I take pride in my work and don't want to post something that is sub-par. But yes, if you're reading this, you're in it for the long haul. This is going to be something of a long fiction work. I want to make this as plausible as possible. Enemies suddenly don't fall in love overnight.]

Disclaimer: All characters are owned by JKR.

Plot: Draco/Hermione. Don't like it? Go somewhere else. This is my story. And I did warn you in the summary. As for the actual plot being original, no one has a copyright on the entire school idea. If so, Hollywood would be in serious trouble

Chapter 9: Dobby's Visit

Draco strolled away from the Slytherin dungeons. He had finally been able to talk to his House Quidditch members after dinner. They had to replace one of their beaters Morgan Parkinson, Pansy Parkinson's older brother, since he graduated last year. Draco had posted that tryouts would be held next weekend for a new beater on the message board of their common room. Not that it was really necessary. After conferring with his team, he was sure that Jason Orrfield, a fifth year Slytherin would become the new beater. However, Draco felt that Orrfield needed a little competition so that he didn't get too big for his britches. Plus, it was an excellent opportunity for Orrfield to offer some 'extra persuasion' to Draco to assure himself of the position.

He walked leisurely through the halls even though he knew he had a mountain of homework. Most of it were just readings to refresh students of their previous lessons, but Draco wanted to be in top-form this year. He knew he would have to almost micro-manage his time to be able to get all his studying done, all his duties as Head Boy and the unofficial business that came along with the position of being Slytherin Prince. He also supposed that he should, in the next few weeks, appoint who his seneschal would be, the sixth year that upon his graduation would ascend the position of power within the school hierarchy. He also knew that he was going to be extra competitive this year, sharing the common room with the Hogwarts number one bookworm would just be a constant reminder of how she continually bested him in academia. For once he wanted to be at the top of their class.

He encountered a few Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw girls on his way to his dorm. They all gave him sidelong glances, and just gave them his trademark snarky look, his lower pouted out just a little as he smiled, looking at them sidelong, his long lashes featured prominently. Some of the girls blushed and giggled, others just lowered their eyes and smiled secretly at him. Draco knew he was one of the most desired boys on campus. Again, in a competition against the Saintly Potter. But unlike Potter, he certainly wasn't an awkward virgin that didn't know the first thing about pleasure. Despite his affinity with hedonism, Draco could temper his desires. He considered himself a connoisseur. He knew how to flatter, seduce and please a woman. He could be romantic if he wanted to; a good upbringing had given him a refined taste, immense wealth meant he could buy anything he wanted and his artistic proclivities made him appear sensitive enough. It also paid to be a Slytherin in the battle of the sexes. Unlike Gryffindors who just seemed to hope that blundering courage and panache could solve anything, Slytherins knew the needs, desires and preferences of their 'prey' before they even attempted the first move.

"Good evening to you lad! I hope you had a good first day!" Adalbert's cheery voice hailed him as he neared the wizard's portrait.

Draco wasn't quite sure what to make of the obviously flirtatious and cheery Wizard. Adalbert had been a truly gifted wizard, a genius of his time. It probably wasn't in his best interest to be at complete odds with the portrait that secured the entrance to his living quarters. Especially since one-third of the Golden Trio already resided inside. Draco certainly didn't want Pothead and Weasel on chummy terms with Adalbert.

"Just a long day," Draco said with a shrug, hitching the strap of his book bag a little further up. He hoped that the wizard did not confuse his statement with the desire for a long conversation. The last thing Draco wanted to do was serve as a conversation partner to a portrait.

Adalbert chuckled sympathetically at Draco's statement. It stood to reason that most other Head Boys and Girls had probably complained about the rigorous course work and their additional responsibilities. And the truth was, there were going to be very long days ahead. "It's alright my boy. You have a visitor waiting for you inside," he added with an affable grin.

"Bathilda Bagshot," Draco said taking the opportunity to leave before the portrait could engage him in a lengthy dialogue. He had been instantly curious about who could be waiting for him inside. He simply hadn't questioned the portrait because he didn't want to talk to the wizard. Draco always preferred to find things out for himself.

No sooner did he step inside that he saw a house elf, clad in a lime- green shirt, black shorts and mismatched socks. The elf hadn't noticed his entrance, as he was busy looking around and poking about the stuff that lay in the common room. Draco almost couldn't believe his eyes. Of course, he had heard the story that other house elves had muttered and that Lucius had squelched at the merest breath of. "Dobby?" he asked, a little unsure.

"Garçon Draco!" Dobby said with a squeak as he turned around, his big eyes sparkling. Part of Draco heartened at Dobby's address, he hadn't been called that in a long time. Most of the house elves that remained called him "Master Draco", a title that reminded him too much of Lucius.

"It's been a long time Dobby," Draco answered neutrally. I mean, what did one say to an ex-family house elf? Especially one that he knew his father had continuously abused. Not that he was ready to join bloody Granger on her ruddy crusade about house elf rights. He simply didn't see the point of abusing a house elf the way his father did. It was akin to abusing a prize thoroughbred or dog. It was mere idiodicy. House elves were a precious commodity. But how do you act when said commodity is no longer in your possession? The entire situation was just extremely awkward. Bugger, he thought. He had no clue what to do.

"Dobby is a free elf now, sir," Dobby explained, a mixture of defiance and apology in his voice. "Famous Harry Potter saved Dobby! And now Dobby works at Hogwarts. For pay!"

Draco digested all this information. After a while, he had noted Dobby's disappearance but he had wisely not questioned Lucius about it. Especially if Harry Potter had managed to liberate Dobby. He could very well imagine his father in an apoplectic rage over the mere mention of Dobby and Draco was not foolhardy or stupid enough to deliberately incur his father's wrath. He would have never guessed that Dobby had been working here at Hogwarts. But then again, he really didn't pay attention to the house elves here at school, mainly because they remained incredibly invisible. And the times he, Crabbe and Goyle or Zabini had nicked down to the kitchens for a late night snack he had never seen Dobby. But Dobby's remarks seemed to require an answer. "I see," he said slowly. Fool, what kind of comment is that? He mentally berated himself. All his poise and manners and that was the best he could come up with?

Dobby just nodded his head and continued to speak. "Dobby knew that Garçon Draco was here, but Garçon Draco never came to see Dobby. And Dobby didn't want to get in trouble. Dobby thought it was best if Dobby stayed away. But Dobby heard that Garçon Draco was made Head Boy... and Dobby wanted to congratulate Garçon Draco," the house elf said quickly, almost as if he was afraid and embarrassed. His big liquid eyes looked expectantly at Draco.

Now, Draco felt distinctively uncomfortable. Despite everything, it was obvious that Dobby held at least a tiny bit of attachment to him. Well, after all, he had grown up with Draco. Although Draco had not been outwardly abusive, he knew he hadn't been the kindest of masters either. His rather dormant conscience raised its head and gave him a nip at the heels but Draco kept his impassive façade. "Well, yes, thank you," Draco said almost stiffly.

"Dobby also wanted to say that the Head Boy and Head Girl can have drinks and some leftovers brought up to their quarters and that Dobby will be in charge of that. You just have to call out for Dobby and Dobby will be here as fast as Dobby can, sir," Dobby added. Although Dobby didn't look overjoyed, his eyes had kept shining when Draco had thanked him.

This was a nice perk for being Head Boy in Draco's opinion. Thanking a house elf twice was something almost alien to him and the words stuck to his throat. Draco settled for nodding his head. He couldn't be outwardly rude to Dobby here at school. After all, he was a free elf, one that was receiving wages. He especially didn't want to be hauled off to Dumbledore's office for a lecture on his attitude towards house elves. That man was positively gooey when it came to bleeding heart crusades like house elf rights or some other such nonsense.

"If there is nothing else Garçon Draco needs at the moment, Dobby will head back to the kitchens, sir," Dobby said, excusing himself.

The phrase brought memories back to Draco, of a happier time in his life, when he still believed in happiness. The memories were always blurry, like an impressionist painting. He didn't remember details, just a few vivid flashes here and there. His mother's hair in the sunlight, his dog sleeping on the rug, Dobby sneaking him sweets between meals. Still, he wasn't impervious to them. No matter how hard he tried to be. "Dobby," he said softly.

Dobby turned around, looking at Draco with his liquid eyes.

"It's good to see you," Draco said, almost without realizing what he was saying. The words seemed to slide out of him, like the way sunlight slides through the surface of things. Part of Draco berated him for feeling such an emotion over an emancipated house elf. He was going soft! He was a Malfoy! He shouldn't go all emotional over a ruddy servant. Another part of Draco, one that remained hidden and forgotten in a corner of his being, however, had meant it. If only for the sake of happier times, when he was younger.

Dobby knew that Draco now was different from the child that he had snuck sweets to. He was also very different from the prepubescent Draco, who had swallowed his father's indoctrination whole. Dobby just gave Draco a brilliant smile before disappearing.

Draco stood there for a minute before he turned his attention to his studies. He hadn't thought that this day could get any stranger, but it had. Dobby's visit just proved it. Draco considered just calling it a day and going to sleep. Today just couldn't get any more bizarre.

Later, Draco would reflect that he should have known better. Because life is a bitch and just likes to fuck with you when you think you know what's going on. And yes, life can and does get more bizarre than that.

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By the time Hermione Granger made it back to her common room, she found Draco buried in his schoolwork, books open and scribbling on a piece of parchment on the Eastern side of the room, which had an underlying Slytherin motif. She was mildly surprised at his arduousness, but he was Head Boy after all. She was just so used to thinking that Malfoy bought his way through, like his position in his House Quidditch team. It was a bit disconcerting to think that Malfoy earned something. He certainly acted like he didn't give a damn. Except when she beat him of course. Then he always had something to say to her. Bloody Mudblood bookworm bitch, to be precise, she thought a little bitterly. He really took every opportunity he could to berate her. She certainly hoped that he would honor their little agreement. She didn't know if she could handle sharing quarters with him otherwise. And she was fond of her Head Girl position.

He looked up at her with eyes that seem to go straight through her and just lowered his head back to continue studying. Hermione was relieved and insulted. She didn't like being ignored. But this was Malfoy in question, so perhaps silence was the best way to maintain civility. She couldn't very well expect him to greet her as if they were mates or even chums.

She sat down at the other desk and began with her DADA homework. Professor Tara had already assigned them three chapters that were due tomorrow. Professor Vector had assigned a number of arithmancy problems to limber up their minds from the summer. Professor Sprout had hinted very strongly that they should review the second chapter of their Herbology book because they would have a quiz tomorrow and Professor Flitzwick had already assigned them a two foot essay on fire charms due this Friday. Not to mention that Professor McGonagall had asked to think about a topic for their research essay of the semester.

Perhaps it was the sight of Draco studying that also spurred the competitive edge in Hermione. She was the resident scholar in the Gryffindor Tower. Everyone in her year had already given up trying to keep up with her. The younger years simply didn't count. Besides, it was nice to have someone else that seemed to take their studies as seriously as she did. Even if it was Malfoy.

She sneaked a peek at how he was doing. In the light of the common room, with his platinuum hair falling around his eyes, he would occasionally run his hand through it to push it back. They really looked white silk strands. She remembered her mother's wedding dress that was hanging in her parent's closet, carefully wrapped in tissue paper and in garment bag. She had never told her mom that she had sneaked a peek when she was eight and touched the delicate fabric. It had been like rubbing a pearl between her fingers, so cool and smooth to the touch. She had imagined what she would look like wearing it. Her mother was saving the dress for Hermione to wear in her wedding day, and like every little girl in the world, Hermione had imagined how that day would be. Of course, that was before she become serious about her studies and given up foolish daydreaming. Of course she would get married. Of course she would wear her mother's dress. She didn't need to dream or think about the event. It would happen. End of bloody story.

It wasn't like she had a serious boyfriend anyway. Even if she did, this wasn't the time to be thinking about long term commitments and romance. There was a war underfoot. She was part of Harry's support system. People were counting on her to be the most informed and prepared. Even when she wasn't as courageous as Harry was, which was a good thing because Harry had been up against Voldemort a ridiculous amount of times already, she was still expected to have a measure of the Gryffindor bravado. More importantly, she was needed to keep things together. Really, what Harry most needed from his friends was not blindly throwing themselves into the fray but to stay calm, collected and make the right decision under fire. More lives were saved through cool intellect than through reckless shows of courage.

"If there is something you want to say Granger, just spit it out. I can feel you boring a hole through my skull," Draco's voice interrupted her musings. She was slightly embarrassed that he had caught her looking in his direction. Not that she had actually been looking at him. If Harry and Ron had been there, they would have recognized that she had been merely lost in thought.

"I can understand that I am devilishly good-looking and absurdly handsome, as I'm sure you have well noticed. But really Granger! I thought you were more studious than that!" Draco drawled, a hint of amusement in his voice. It absolutely infuriated Hermione and galvanized her into action. How dare he insinuate that she would rather stare at him than study! So, maybe she had noticed how silky his hair was... but it was merely a casual observation. Anyone could have done that. It was like suddenly noticing a little detail about a painting you have always had hanging in your room. Most of the time you don't even really see it. Except for those occasional moments where a detail just happens to catch your eye.

"Your sheer arrogance is dumbfounding, Malfoy. I wasn't looking at you, I just happened to be deep in thought," Hermione retorted angrily. She really had been. She wasn't going to explain herself to this annoying little ferret. That's a complete misnomer, he didn't look like a ferret anymore. He had grown out of his pointed face. His face was full of strong clean lines, an aristocratic nose a little on the long side, and deep penetrating eyes. After all, he was one of the hottest guys in Hogwarts. A ferret was a lot of things. Hot wasn't one of them. Not that she thought he was hot. Not at all. But she could see how how others could find him appealing.

He turned to look at her, an almost pleasant smile on his face and Hermione, for a panicked moment thought that he could actually read her mind. "Deep in thought? About me? I never knew you felt that way Granger!" he mocked, his gray eyes glinting.

Hermione could feel her face heating with anger. He was an absolute prat! More importantly, there wasn't enough room for both of them and his ego. The garbage that spewed from his mouth! Hermione certainly wasn't going to admit that, even in a moment of utter weakness, she had actually thought about him in a rather flattering light. She was Hermione Granger, she wasn't immune to hormones but she wasn't going to let them dictate her thoughts either! She counted, mentally, to ten before answering him.

"Malfoy, obviously your reality and mine intersect at some point because we are sitting in the same room. However, please keep your delusions to yourself. I was merely thinking about how to arrange my homework schedule with the patrols that we have to do," she said frostily. Ha! Take that! She thought. She was pleased with her answer, she sounded intelligent and mature. But more importantly, that she was taking both her studies AND her Head Girl duties seriously.

However, Draco appeared unruffled and even amused by her answer. "Sounds like you are having trouble managing your schoolwork and Head Girl duties. We patrol from 10 until 11, every night. There isn't much juggling necessary really. I can understand if the burden of responsibility can be too much to handle," he said, his voice completely insincere.

How dare he insinuate that she wasn't capable of managing this! She, who had taken almost all of the courses available her third year, could deal with this. No need to mention that she had a miserable time that year and had been helped by a time-turner. But still! And this definitely did not fall into civil conversation. "I thought you wanted to maintain civil conversation," she said stiffly. And wondered how much blood would spurt from splitting those lovely luscious lips of his. Hermione wanted to smack herself. Luscious lips? Well, actually, they were. Malfoy's mouth was decidedly sensual, even in a sneer. Hermione wanted to take her DADA book and bash it against her forehead. She was obviously suffering from brain damage.

Draco laughed, a low and masculine sound that seemed to vibrate around her. "What are you thinking Granger?" he mused. "This is as civil as we're ever bloody going to get."

Hermione wanted to sigh from relief. If Malfoy was going to act like this all ruddy school year then she would have no problems dealing with him. She looked straight into his eyes for a moment before she turned back to her DADA reading.

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They returned from patrol silently. They hadn't spoken much during the patrol, mainly just informing each other where the other would be patrolling and agreeing to meet by the stairway leading to the Owlery before heading back to their common room together. Adalbert had been sleeping when they arrived and Draco merely rapped on the frame and spoke the password before the wizard had the chance to engage either of them a conversation. Although the old coot had winked at Granger before the frame swung open. Draco had wanted to roll his eyes. He really couldn't imagine Granger flirting with anyone.

She had been very curt and cold with him after their brief conversation in the common room. He had actually congratulated himself on his restraint. Seriously, what did that annoying bint think? Merely because they had a very tenuous agreement to be civil to one another didn't mean that overnight, they were going to best chums. The conversation had actually been amusing. Especially when her face had become flushed. He knew that she had been lost in thought but he couldn't resist needling her about it.

But at the moment he was a little tired and a little cold. Summer was dying, her breath becoming cooler. The night had been clear but not as balmy as the week before. And Hogwarts passages were notoriously drafty. He could definitely go in for a cup of cocoa or hot cider.

"Dobby!" he said in a loud voice impulsively, remembering what the house elf had told him earlier that morning.

Granger looked at him startled. Draco was about to say something when Dobby appeared and interrupted him.

"Garçon Draco!" Dobby squeaked out excitedly. "What can Dobby do for you?"

"Just a cup of hot apple cider and maybe some more apple dumplings, if there are any left,'" Draco answered. It really felt like old times. Dobby had always been unfailingly cheery around him and had followed his orders with alacrity, particularly those concerning food.

"Miss Hermione Granger! Dobby knew you would be Head Girl! Miss Hermione is the smartest witch at Hogwarts and a great friend of Harry Potter and house elves all over the world. What can Dobby do for you?" Dobby asked, turning his attention toward Granger.

"Malfoy! He's no longer your fucking house elf! You have absolutely no bloody right to order him around!" Granger screeched at him. Draco winced. She really had an impressive set of lungs. Perhaps she had a banshee ancestor. That screech had been positively frightful. Even Dobby had to cover his ears and Dobby's hearing was infinitely more delicate than his own. By God! Granger's screech had pierced right through his brain.

"Granger, stop your ruddy yelling! I thought we agreed to be civil. Besides, your screechs affect Dobby very negatively," Draco said coldly. The woman was positively daft and a harridan. If it hurt Draco's ears, he could only imagine the pain that Dobby was experiencing. Something told Draco that she cared more about the house elf's pain than his. More importantly, he didn't want to watch Dobby punishing himself. It was something he had never gotten used to, seeing something as lowly as a house elf deliberately harm itself in penance. Plus, he really didn't want to trigger Dobby's memories of abuse he had suffered under Lucius. He didn't like to think about it and all he had done was witness the blasted events.

Granger glared mutinously at him. Draco wanted to sigh in exasperation. Bloody Gryffindors. So willing to jump at the supposed plight of the weak without ever bothering to find out if this was more harmful than helpful.

"Oh no! Miss Hermione don't yell at Garçon Draco!" Dobby said, his demeanour becoming anxious, rubbing his hands together nervously. "Dobby is here to serve the Head Boy and Girl. It is one of the privileges of the position. Does Miss Hermione want a nice cup of cocoa? How about some chocolate éclairs?"

Granger turned her attention to Dobby and her demeanor changed almost completely to reassure Dobby. "Yes, that would be wonder. Thank you Dobby. I hope this isn't too much of a bother," she said almost pleasantly, with a smile. Draco could hear and see the strains and knew that she was still angry. He had training since young, knew how to recognize the signs. It had been a critical skill to survive in the Malfoy Manor He could also tell that she didn't want to upset the house elf unnecessarily. Draco was momentarily jealous as her considerations. She was considerate to a house elf, albeit a freed one, but he wasn't even entitled to a fourth of that respect or civility.

"It's no problem Miss Hermione. This is what Dobby is for," Dobby said with a limpid smile before he disappeared to the kitchens.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Granger demanded almost as soon as Dobby was gone, her voice becoming more strident. Draco was amazed at her mercurial temperament. No wonder she and Weasel and Pothead were fighting constantly.

"You never asked. And before I could say anything you accused me of mistreating Dobby," he said frostily. He really was angry with her. She had jumped down his throat at the first chance. Hadn't even bothered giving him a chance to explain himself. "I thought you Gryffindors believed that people were innocent until proven guilty," he added, chastising her.

Her face colored at his words. He knew he had struck dead center. She was always so proud about doing the right thing, even if it meant breaking a few rules. Always holding the higher moral road. Draco wanted to rub his hands gleefully and gloat. He certainly had put her in her place and it felt great. Goddamn uppity holier-than-thou Granger! Who was superior now?

"I apologize for jumping to conclusions," she said stiffly. Draco wanted to stare at her face. It looked like she had to eat humble pie and crow at the same time with her bloody foot in her mouth. Looking at her though, Draco could no longer gloat. He knew what it is to have pride and what it took to humble one's self. Especially to someone you hated. Again, his conscience rose up to nip at his heels for the second time today. Draco stuffed it back into the trunk it had escaped from. Besides, it was the second time this year that Granger had apologized to him and he was feeling gracious.

"Apology accepted Granger," he said loftily. If looks were as effective as Avdra Kedavra, he would have been dead a long time ago. He wisely left it at that.

Before any of them could say anything else, Dobby appeared with their snacks.